


Biweekly Log 01

by stephanericher



Series: Drabbles [4]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:10:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles published between 8/30 and 9/12 on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	Biweekly Log 01

**Author's Note:**

> some of these were originally published on twitter on dates i don't remember (roughly around this time though). 
> 
> there are 10 of them.

1\. Adodypsis/Gymnophoria (Aomine Daiki/Midorima Shintarou) for anon

They’d finally cleared space in their schedule for a night alone, had been in the middle of a romantic dinner when Aomine’s employer had called—for once, not Midorima’s, not that it makes much of a difference. And since Oha-Asa had placed both Cancer and Virgo in the bottom four today, Midorima’s been expecting something like this to happen. Still, this is worse than both of them being too tired or having to work late. They’re already halfway in the mood and Aomine’s boss needs something within the next hour that Aomine’s coworker was supposed to do six hours ago and of course he didn’t and the boss trusts Aomine (of course she does) and so Aomine’s sitting there still fully dressed with his half-finished glass of wine, at his desk typing away furiously.

Midorima doesn’t say anything. The less he distracts Aomine the quicker this will get done and the more likely it is they’ll at least get to fool around a little bit before falling asleep. And yet, from where he is sitting on the bed only a few meters away, he can’t help but just stare. He doesn’t often see Aomine working like this, the curve of his back and the way he occasionally runs a hand through his hair to mess it up. Midorima bites his lip. It would be so nice if he could just slip his hand in the untucked bit of Aomine’s shirt, slide it up his torso, unbutton it from the bottom, explore the muscles on Aomine’s torso in ways he hasn’t been able to in weeks, ways he’s been wanting to—for Aomine’s arms to slip out of the sleeves and be free and bare against his skin.

Aomine turns around. The corners of his cheeks are flushed.

“Midorima?”

Midorima blinks. His own face is heating up, or maybe it’s been hot this whole time thinking those things about Aomine, and he’s just realizing it now.

“Aomine.”

His voice is lighter than he’d thought it would be, more hoarse. Aomine’s hand falls from the stem of his wineglass.

“Fuck.”

* * *

2\. Bible (Liu Wei/Himuro Tatsuya)

The downside of a religious school is the required attendance at services, listening to the chaplain read aloud from a book about a god he doesn’t believe in while pretending to pay attention well enough to avoid getting punished. It’s hard, especially when you’re as tall as Liu—Himuro, next to him, is pretty big, too, but he looks smaller and he’s the model of perfect attention, eyes on the bible in his lap and pages turned in a semblance of the right timing (and even if he did get caught sleeping or something his charm would get him out of it). But if Liu angles his own bible in the right way, or if they squeeze too many students into one row and are forced to share books, well—he can get a nice look at the curve of Himuro’s pale knuckles against his grey slacks, the way his hair falls around the perfect shell of his ear, and, well. It’s a hell of a lot more interesting than the service.

* * *

 

3\. Puppy (Susa Yoshinori/Sakurai Ryou)

Sakurai’s like a puppy when he gets excited, working himself into a big enough frenzy until he’s chasing his own tail and Susa’s caught between watching and stifling a laugh and worrying about how dizzy he’s going to get. And when he finally calms down it’s a welcome result, the way he lets Susa slip fingers through his and looks up with those big eyes and that cute little half-frown that Susa feels practically obliged to kiss (but he will never, ever let anyone know that or he’ll never hear the end of it—but fuck it; the only opinion that matters here is Sakurai’s and his little blush and the way he squeezes Susa’s hand are totally worth it).

* * *

 

4\. Bruised Knuckles (Alexandra Garcia/Araki Masako)

“I wish I could have seen you like that,” Alex says.

Maybe she does; maybe she thinks she does—but what would she have thought of Masako as a teenager? She’d been all unruly hair and bruised knuckles and tough talk; she’d written things in the most obscure kanji possible (even now she still slips up sometimes and has to correct herself in writing) and she probably would have tried to fight Alex on sight. 

But even though she bristles at the words, there’s something about that—the wistfulness, the desire to know more of Masako than she does know and that she can know as things are—that touches Masako somewhere. Maybe she’s finally going soft, and either way she’s definitely blaming this on Alex. So she squeezes Alex’s hand and says nothing further for the moment.

* * *

 

5\. Autumn (Kagami Taiga/Himuro Tatsuya), originally on twitter

It’s the kind of cloudy day where it almost smells like rain but Tatsuya’s not quite sure he’s imagining it, where the heat and humidity have even gotten tired of themselves and are easing up a little bit, where he can almost see the outline of the sunbeams piercing through. Even the cicadas are quieting, beginning to shuck their shells like seed husks on the ground; the fall is coming too quick. 

It’s still too hot to sit close on the front porch but Taiga does anyway, his weight making the wood creak, his feet stretching out on either side (he’s avoided splinters in his heels for far too long for his luck to be less than supernatural) and his chest sagging against Tatsuya’s back, his arms across Tatsuya’s lap.

“You’re heavy,“ Tatsuya says, leaning forward with the weight, with Taiga’s sweat seeping through his shirt and onto him.

Taiga whines; his toes flex–the curve of the top of his feet and up his ankle is a parabola, extending up his leg and out of Tatsuya’s sight, an asymptote to the planks of wood, nailed down hastily and rotting away in places. The cicadas start up a pathetic chorus; their sound dies away just as quickly. Taiga shifts his grip; his fingers brush Tatsuya’s sides and he can probably feel Tatsuya’s breath hitch, small and sharp like the tip of a needle–he nuzzles the space between Tatsuya’s shoulders in response.

* * *

 

6\. Pleased (Seto Kentarou/Momoi Satsuki)

Kentarou claims the reason he’s good at basketball is because as a child he was too tired to get out of bed when he was sick and got very good at aiming tissues at the trash can. Both of them are smart enough to know better, but Satsuki lets it slide—it’s a terrible attempt at humor, but it’s so very Kentarou, a little bit absurd and missing the point semi-intentionally, the kind of thing he’d say to intentionally rile up one of his friends.  She catches his eye and he smiles; she leans in to kiss him on the cheek and the scent of his hair gel overpowers her. He slides his face over to meet his lips with hers; he’s humming under his breath and it’s cute how pleased he is. And, well, she’s pleased, too.

* * *

 

7\. Ribbons (Kagami Taiga/Furihata Kouki)

The first time Furihata had suggested it, he’d barely been able to stutter out the words and Kagami had had to ask him to repeat it. He hadn’t been sure whether Furihata actually wanted to or whether he’d thought Kagami would like it and suggested it for only that reason, so he hadn’t given him an answer. But he’d thought about it, enough for it to infiltrate his fantasies until when Furihata had suggested it again he really couldn’t say know.

Still, the actual sight of Furihata spread out before him on the bed, wrapped up like a present with a multitude of ribbons in a sweet little lingerie set, is better than anything he could have imagined. Already his pants are too tight; already his head is spinning; Furihata bites his liip and blinks at him and oh, fuck.

“You can…touch me if you want,” Furihata says, blushing as red as the trim on the hem of his panties.

And fuck, Kagami does want.

* * *

 

8\. First (Nijimura Shuuzou/Himuro Tatsuya) originally on twitter

Tatsuya never means to fall asleep first, but that doesn’t mean he never does. Days when he’s tired like he is today, or even approaching that threshold stumbling from half a mile away, one second he’ll be staring at Shuuzou jotting down notes and organizing e-mail and the next his eyes will be shut and his breathing quieted, ends of his hair fluttering under his breath like the tide. Shuuzou smiles, resisting the sudden urge to smooth out Tatsuya’s hair, but the pace of his writing slows. By the time he’s done, Tatsuya’s long gone into the world of unconsciousness and then Shuuzou fixes his hair and pulls him closer. He doesn’t wake, breath slightly hitching and half-rolling so his body lies flush against Shuuzou’s, so the slope of his waist is too perfect for Shuuzou’s hand not to fall into after he turns off the light, so his head is almost in the crook of Shuuzou’s shoulder.

It’s not the most practical position but it doesn’t matter; Shuuzou will take slight soreness in his hips for all the closeness and all the happiness that these moments offer. (And somehow when they end up like this Tatsuya always stays and they always wake up still tangled in each other.)

* * *

 

9\. Chocolate (Alexandra Garcia/Araki Masako)

Masako’s voice sounds like the snap of a bitter chocolate bar being broken in two, crackling with the miles of ocean between them. It comes with the disappointment of the chocolate crumbling, of it being too rich and too hard to bite into properly, of being unable to have as much as she wants—Masako’s voice, her words, are not enough.

But it’s better than nothing; it’s something Alex can subsist on for a while, until the next time they meet—it’s like she’s a comet and Masako’s the sun, and every once in a while her orbit gets close enough to see. Every so often they’re close enough to touch and feel and smell and see and be together, gauge each other’s reactions without guessing or imagining expressions.

“Alex? Are you still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Masako sighs, and Alex can almost see her tugging on the ends of her bangs.

“I miss you.”

Her voice is slow, soft, sweet coming from the back of her throat like raspberry syrup. That she’ll admit it like this might be a testament to the detachment of this medium of communication, but the sentiment is preserved. And it fills Alex with a pleasant warmth, even with the weather as hot as it is. She smiles, and even though Masako can’t see it and has no way of picking up on it through the phone, she hears that faint semi-exasperated click in the back of Masako’s throat when she’s blushing and trying to hide her face.

And that’s when she knows they’ll get through it.

* * *

 

10\. Taste (Kagami Taiga/Akashi Seijuurou)

Akashi has expensive taste, but Kagami can afford it. Even if he couldn’t, it’s not really about the money; it’s about the presentation—Akashi likes things simple and elegant, and Kagami can do that if he reminds himself not to get too carried away. And there’s something satisfying about making a plain meal, dimming the overhead lights just a fraction, wearing a plain suit and making idle conversation. And when Akashi smiles at him from across the small table, eyes illuminated and lips full in the soft shadows, Kagami’s really quite glad it’s so simple—after all, he can barely keep track of his own movements.

 


End file.
